


Essentials

by purrslink



Category: A-Team (TV), A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Slash, Vietnam Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:10:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purrslink/pseuds/purrslink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a USO girl wants more from Face, Murdock questions whether or not she's right - perhaps Face can do better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Essentials

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snack_size](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snack_size/gifts).



Could he really blame him for leaning so close?

It takes a few seconds and another tilt of his head before he decides no, not at all, because when you’ve got a pair of Dolly Parton’s waving in your face and a baby doll face that would make Raggedy Ann jealous, well, it’s certain to get anyone’s blood going faster than Wilma Rudolph down the 100 meter straight away. Hell, if he wasn’t the way he was he’d be right there with Face, leaning in as well to get a stronger whiff of that jasmine scent and wondering just how long those legs really do go.

Yet he isn’t, and he won’t, and instead he stays where he is on the other side of the rickety Army issue table that’s sporting a broken left leg, pretending for Face’s sake that he really does want to learn French, never mind the fact it was the third – no, fourth – language he learned back when he was even more of a knobby kneed smile. But that’s besides the point really.

Just like he can make believe that the way Face just brushed the girl’s hand doesn’t affect him. 

Oh, he knows it’s all for cover, a scam, a highly convoluted pathway of lies and deceit that is intended just for him. Sure, it may be a strange way to show your love but he’ll accept it with grace because they’re both doing the best they can.

That perfectly engineered lie, however, doesn’t mean that Face needs to go all the way, and while Face may know that, is keeping the perfect distance away to discourage anything more than a flirtatious intent, the girl doesn’t know and definitely is showing more and she’s leaning in in in…

So before the con man can make contact with those Berry Rouge lips he decides that this is the perfect time to lean in between the two, elementary French book in hand, and say with his best French accent, “Ah, Francois! The language of love! To be in Paris in the spring time, some say, is to be in the middle of heaven, Cupid’s own palace, Shangri La itself, where the wine pours freely and the birds sing sonnets and even the mimes on the corner proclaim that love is in the air!”

And by the looks on Face and the USO girl’s face, they clearly have no idea how a mime portrays such a thing, so he stands on the table and moves between the two to demonstrate the intricacies that come with being a professional Parisian street mime.

“Murdock, get off the table.” Face is chuckling at him, however, and instead of exasperation gives him a smile even as he turns to the girl. “Really, he’s not always like this.”

“What’s he normally like?”

“Well, he’s…usually a lot more so.”

Face’s look says stop but now he has a mission to educate these two on the beauty of miming, so he mimes a sad face at the con man before spinning to exclaim his love for the girl with a bada-bing thumping heart and a-roo-ga! eyes before going down on one knee to propose with the best invisible diamond ring invisible money can buy.

Face’s eyebrow raises for just the briefest of moments – does he get the message that Face better back off? – as he groans and rubs his fingers up his temple like he always does when he’s embarrassed. “Come on, buddy, I don’t think Delilah’s interested in that.”

The girl giggles, manicured hand going to her Midwestern lips. “I’m sorry sweetie, but I’ve got my eye on another.”

And sure enough her green eyes slide over to Face’s and Murdock mimes double sad tears when all he really wants to mime exactly who those baby blue eyes belong too with a not-so-mimed kiss on the lips.

“What do you say, honey?”

Face is hesitant, suddenly very hesitant, and now Murdock’s message is clear and he begins to retreat from that leaning position with as much discretion as a womanizing con man can afford. It’s never fast enough for the lover who’s watching, but it’s all he’ll get, because this is a con and you don’t ruin the con just because silly things like personal feelings or jealousy or, you know, love, get in the way.

So Murdock the Mime looks between the two and he takes out an invisible hanky from an invisible inner pocket and blows on it loudly because what’s a poor, man-loving mime to do? Even that love isn’t acceptable in the City of Amour.

“Oh, well, I’m flattered, really.” Face squirms a bit as the girl slips a delicate hand under the table. Really Faceman should just consider renaming himself Samson right now, because ladies like Delilah never end up being anything more than a headache in the end.

He finds himself inside a box, unable to do anything and unable to stop what he knows is coming next. So as the girl moves in for a kiss, he figures out that there are four sides and a roof to his tiny little square that seem to have come out of no where. Does this happen a lot to mimes? Apparently so.

The kiss catches Face more by surprise than him, because Murdock’s a mime who professes love with mere actions – he knows these things when he sees them. Besides, she’s been obvious about it ever since she put her elbow on the table. Who puts their elbow on the table like that for anything besides kissing?

Come on, Faceman, break it off, break it off. 

He’d stop it himself, except his box doesn’t seem to be leaving soon. So he mimes himself a pair of blinds and closes them shut, but the problem with mimes is they still see everything. Just like he can also see the looks the two are drawing: jealousy from the men, coy looks from the other USO girls. If love had a language it would be in the way that they two fit so well together in the way their heads tilt naturally in just the right way.

Next time he’ll just be a starving artist instead.

Face manages to break away a bit too quickly to be true to character. “That was…”

“Perfect?” She smiles, hand to her chest.

He’d have to agree with the girl – the cinema could learn from a kiss like that, broken off or not. And Face is still trying to figure out what to say, but as Murdock the Mime begins to impersonate the hearts and stars and singing birds that are surrounding the two in this Paris in Saigon, he sees that those blue eyes flicker to him even as the con man answers with other things in mind, “Yeah.”

The girl smiles and her fingers go back to twirling her hair just so. “That’s not the only thing I do perfectly, you know.”

He’s sure it isn’t, because she already dresses perfectly, kisses perfectly, flirts perfectly, and he’s sure she’s probably perfect in bed. In fact, she’s perfect in almost every way for Face, and she can do it all without having to hide in a supply closet, fist in her mouth to muffle the noise.

Perfect, really.

Why would Face choose him again?

Face is shaking his head though and he’s missed something important, so he opens the blinds just a tad. “I’m sure there are several things, Delilah. But I’m afraid I’m not really interested.”

The girl gives a beautiful pout. “Awww, Templeton, what, are you taken already?”

“To a very lucky person,” Face says and there’s another flicker of those eyes on him and a smile to accompany it this time. “Isn’t that right, Murdock?”

He has to break his silence now because Face isn’t the only catch around here. “I dunno, Faceman, maybe it’s the other that’s the lucky one. I mean, your significant other has quite a few admirable qualities that definitely add up on the grand total of lucky-to-have-ness. One of them being putting up with all your little antics, Faceman.”

“My antics?”

“Yeah, you know, your general flirting, your clothing cleanliness fanaticism, your hair ritual…”

“My hair ritual? What’s wrong with my hair?”

He leans over a bit to ruffle the con man’s hair, much to Face’s chagrin. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with it; it just takes you as long as Elvis to get it ready for the public’s viewing.”

“How would you know how long it takes Elvis to do his hair?”

He snorts at this and rolls his eyes. “Come on, Faceman. Everyone knows Elvis took exactly twenty-six minutes and four seconds to get his hair done up and Superman-perfect. Twenty-eight if he was in a humid climate, like we are.”

At Face’s look, he grins. “Besides, Face, you don’t even have a house to bring down! What have you got that’s needing precious time spent on your hair?” Particularly when he could be doing something else, like really, really hot wake up kisses. “It’s not like Esquire’s coming out here any time soon to cover G.I.’s in repose in jungle in BDUs.”

“Now, now, what if Esquire does return my letters and shows up when I’m unprepared?”

“Face, you and I both know that the odds of that happening are worse than B.A. giving up his gold voluntarily.”

“It’s not impossible though!” 

“I guess if it’s a cute little Asian baby asking, it isn’t, so Esquire could show up on the next Huey. They’ll certainly have no trouble picking you out of the crowd, Faceman, seein’ how you’re the only man out here with a proper suit.”

“I take pride in my appearance no matter where we are.”

He’s going to tell Face that he has hair gel on his hands now, thanks to the con man’s coif, but he’s still getting the stink eye and when he sees the flicker of hurt in the con man’s eyes he offers him a smile. “It is a pretty nice suit.” He really does like his hair too.

The girl’s been watching, growing more confused and unsure by the second, but after throwing an almost catty look at him for taking up Face’s time she turns to the con man with a roll of her shoulders. “Well, I can tell you that you don’t need a suit to get people to appreciate what you have, Templeton.” She adds with a sultry smile. “Who is the lucky lady that has your heart so tightly? Maybe I can up the ante.”

“Ah, ah, no one you know.” It’s a bit of a nervous laugh in there, because Face doesn’t know how to explain that his partner is missing a few bumps and curves to be considered a member of the fairer sex without angering Uncle Sam.

“Well, if she’s not here, then she doesn’t have to know.” She’s leaning further in even as Face leans back, a smile gracing those darkened lips.

“See, they would know, and it would just be awkward explaining it and, really, it wouldn’t be fair to them if I want cheating on them now, now would it?” As Face leans back he glances to him and perhaps he can rescue the man before things become even more awkward.

He nods vigorously as the girl follows Face’s gaze and he feels bad enough for her to give her a ‘what can ya do’ cavalier shrug. “Ah, amore, ce qui peut vous faire? Just wasn’t in the cards this time, ma chere.”

Because what can you do?

Face is his.

“I can find someone for your friend here if that’s the problem…”

Murdock snorts. “Non, mademoiselle, not for me. I’m afraid another has stolen my heart!” And how can he express to this girl, to Face, just how important that thief is? How unique and wonderful and special he is. Click, bing, bang that would work just fine. “You see, I searched the world, all seven continents, all seven seas, all seven wonders of the world-”

She interrupts. “Um, I thought there were eight wonders of the world…”

But he’s ignoring that. “Been to all seven sages and all seven samurai and all seven-”

“Murdock.” Face gives him a look and right, he should get back to the original train of thought.

“The point is, that I’ve never met anyone that knew it was a snake eating an elephant and not a hat until I met them, and you know how that is.” He nudged Delilah, who only gave him a slightly dazed look and moved back. “Once you find someone who sees the snake, you just gotta latch on and hold them close, cause if you lose them all you’ve got left is a downed jet in the Sahara! Or a rose, if you’re more the spacey type.”

The girl is outright staring at him in something akin to utter bewilderment and it’s as if Face knows that he’ll keep going if given the chance. So the con man butts into the conversation with a hand to his shoulder and a look to the girl. “What he really means is no thanks.” 

She’s now staring at the way Face’s hand rests so comfortably at the curve of his neck and the glance she gives him is clear even with only one eye focused: unimpressed. He knows what comes next, and sure enough, there’s that tone that’s reserved for buying stock. Or competition. “I’m just surprised anyone’s interested at all.”

Face is caught off guard – twice in a night. He’ll have to tease him later about it. “I’m sorry?”

She shrugs. “Whatever. If you want to spend the rest of the night with…” She stands as she gathers her stuff and gives the Phantom a once over with a huff. “This, then fine. But don’t try to look me up when you realize you could have done a lot better for evening entertainment.”

And she’s gone with a sashay of her hips that has a few G.I.s glance over at Face and shake their head in the ‘what an idiot’ fashion that is usually reserved for him. He watches her go as the snake inside him chokes on the elephant, because really, when did the pilot become the rose when the real thing is right here? There’s nothing glittery or sparkly or societally appealing about a man who can’t even draw a convincing snake-eating-elephant.

Face is looking at him, he can tell, because he can almost always tell when that particular set of blue eyes is looking at him. But he doesn’t’ look back, because really, the way the girl looks back with that one last raise of her eyebrow is so remarkably calculated and perfect that she should be the rose.

“Come on, buddy. Let’s go get a drink.”

His shoulder is being tugged so he follows the voice and a few moments later they’re outside in the humid evening air, BDUs already sticking under his jacket and the noise of armored street cars, raucous singing, and heavy moans filling the streets bustle that visiting G.I. call home.

“What do you think, Lo Van Leuc? Or how about that one Hannibal tried yesterday? The one next to the laundry?”

He sighs. “Faceman, I-”

But he doesn’t get to finish because Face is smiling just this side of too much and is steering him down an alley way. “You’re right, been too many times. Let’s try that new Velvet Hour place, over by Old Man Phu’s place. Should be quicker down here…”

And they’re lost in the maze of buildings and hard packed dirt and abandoned carts. There’s no one around suddenly as Face accidently loses them in a cluster of houses and he realizes, once again, that his lover is a quick draw when Face checks once, twice, three times for prying ears before turning to him and running the his knuckles over his cheek. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Oh a million things. “It ain’t nothin’, Face. Nothing at all.” He grins but he finds himself reaching out to fist that dark green shirt just to be sure it didn’t go after those green eyes.

“Oh no, you don’t get to tell me it’s nothin’.” He has to grin because that’s a pretty bad imitation. “Now what is it, buddy? Was it the girl?”

Face always hits the nail on the head when it comes to this, so he just shrugs noncommittally, which of course is Murdockian code for yes. Fortunately, Face is mostly fluent, and it’s a pretty easy code.

“Hey, listen to me.” His face is being encircled by hands now and the focus is being drawn straight to those blue eyes. “She didn’t mean anything. Sure, she was nice to look at…”

Of course she was, she’s the Vi’s Violet of roses, and even his grandmother had practically gone glassy eyed at the thought of being near one of those. All he’s got going for him is his lack of thorns – they were cut off a long time ago. And he knows he’s probably got all sorts of gross creepy crawlies just waiting to get at him, because yeah, he is a bit defenseless against some things. But doesn’t that mean he should get a chance with someone like Face?

Face is still fluent enough to realize that his now pursed eyebrows can only mean inner war being waged. “But that’s all she was, Murdock. Something nice to look at.” The hands pull in his face and the con man is kissing him tenderly, pulling back just enough to say, “Can’t live off looks alone, buddy.”

It flies out. “This comin’ from the man who imported hair gel?”

A broad white grin meets him, as if Face knew he couldn’t resist. “One in the same.”

“Think Elvis-”

And he’s being kissed again, which he really can’t complain about, so he kisses back until they both hear the back fire of a vehicle and the drunken laugh of someone nearby and the pull apart waiting, tense, for a figure to appear. But none do, and they relax once more, Face’s hands circling his waist some time to pull him close. “Hey, listen to me.”

It’s hard to do, because there’s a million thoughts buzzing – what if they’d been caught, what if it was someone important, what if they didn’t need to be worried about being caught because Face went with Delilah – but he does blink at Face. That’s evidently enough of a clue for the con man to lick the tip of his nose and that definitely gets his attention because usually it’s him doing it to Face.

“There you are.” Face smiles, then grows quite serious. “You’re the only one for me. Promise.”

He nods a bit because he knows this, they’ve had this conversation before, but it’s slipping out again anyway. “I know, Face, I know, muchacho. But she’s beautiful, and you could be doin’ this with her out on the street, at the bar even, and brag about it tomorrow.”

Face pulls him in close and nuzzles the side of his neck with restrained wild abandon, which is the sexist kind. “Mmm, she is beautiful. But so are you.” A light nip. “Besides, sometimes having secrets is half the fun.”

Now a hand is slipping up his back and he can feel the heat of Face’s body even through the sweat stained shirt and oppressing humidity. He knows he gives off a slight gasp at the sudden addition of hard and hot and he can just envision the grin on Face’s mouth as the man licks the reddened skin and blows cool, cool air on it.

“Face…” He has to compose himself for a precious second. “I’m just saying you could have this easier.” And it hurts to say it because it’s true and he wishes he were the easy route. Well, not that easy, since he’s not some cheap relationship, but it makes sense in his head at least.

“This what?” Breath against his ear.

He squirms. “This. This touching, this kissing, this flirting, this this.”

Face pauses at the nape of his neck and gives him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

So he sighs and motions between the two of them. “Look, you may know your snake-elephants pretty well, but it doesn’t mean I’m really that much of a catch. I mean, I can barely draw, much less talk to foxes.”

Now he knows Face is lost because the con man’s grip is loosening on his hips. But at the look on his face the con man shakes his head and those hands are back. “One, I like elephants. And two, who said you weren’t a catch?”

He just gives Face a look, because Face was there too. The con man’s mouth makes a perfect ‘o’ before he is pulled back in again, tightly. “Murdock, you’re crazy, you know that?”

“More like mad…”

“The good kind of crazy, though. Or mad, or whatever you want to say.” Face tries to get at his earlobe, but he ducks away a bit irritably, because Face doesn’t seem to get that he could be way better off with Delilah than him.

“You don’t need more madness in your life, Faceman. Afraid it’s not on the essentials list when you enlist.”

At that Face pulls back at that and gives him a long stare even as the con man breathes just a bit too heavily into the darkening air. “What’s that one famous line again? From that book.”

Funny how he knows what book Face is thinking. “On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux?”

“Yeah that one. And what’s it say?”

He knows Face knows what it says – he’s quoted it a million times before, usually late at night into swampy air. “One sees clearly only with the heart. What is essential is invisible to the eye.”

And Face smiles. “You’re my essential, Murdock.”

He’ll take that.

Particularly it’s one of the most romantic things said to him.

Right next to the one time he was told he was “Texas sex-ass.”

Drunk Face still comes up with the best lines.

They kiss even when a dog barks close by and as someone throws up in the gutters on the other side of the bamboo hut they’re hidden behind. And it might not be the Paris that he wants this to be, and he might not be the rose that can match the one kissing him back. But as the goldenrod flares become more visible against black sky and the bare bulb lighting begins to flicker on, he thinks it’s probably close enough to count for something.

Especially when Face is leaning even closer to him than she could ever hope for.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [ateam_prompts](http://ateam-prompts.livejournal.com/) meme.


End file.
